


Compass

by varooooom



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varooooom/pseuds/varooooom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is fairly certain this is not what Merlin's magic is meant to be used for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compass

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless dragonlord porn! Yeah, that's all I got for you.

"I'm a dragonlord, you know."

"Oh, good. You've finally gone mad and started retelling me things I already know. Joy of joys."

"Shut it, you prat. I'm trying to think something through with you here."

Arthur laughs lightly, and Merlin rolls away from him in a childish display of upset the King knows to mean he isn't really mad. Merlin rarely ever is, when they're tangled in the sheets and glowing with moonlight and the quiet thrum of the warlock's magic in the air, but he's also stubborn and a _brat_ , which has him pouting in the most ridiculously absurd fashion on his kiss-bruised lips. It only serves to make Arthur laugh _more_ before twining their fingers together by means of apology.

"Fine, fine. Let's have it," which is all Merlin needs to roll back over and drape himself over Arthur's bare chest, slipping his leg back between Arthur's. He always curls around him like this after sex; they can forgo blankets on warmer nights for all he insists on pressing them as close together as physically possible.

"Right," he picks up excitedly as though he was never interrupted, "As I was _saying_ \- I'm a dragonlord. So I can command dragons."

Arthur sighs. " _Honestly_ , Merlin, if this is your typical thought process, it's no wonder you're so incredibly _slow_."

"And _you_ ," he continues, pointedly ignoring Arthur, "are a dragon."

Arthur blinks in surprise, purses his lips, then looks down at his naked form. "Mm, I'm going to go with _no_ on this one? Fairly certain I'm human. I've got all the human bits, see? Very obviously human."

Merlin props himself up on his elbow to look Arthur in the eyes, earnest and eager. "Your name's Pendragon."

"Yes, my _name_. That doesn't make _me_ a dragon." His brows furrow, but Merlin still looks like he's found the idea of the century, and then confusion fades to disbelief. "Wait, hang on. Are you trying to say that you, being a dragonlord, can command me, being a 'Pendragon?'"

"I dunno. Maybe."

"I'm not Aithusa or the Great Dragon."

"His name's Kilgharrah."

"He's a creep, is what he is. I don't like how he's always prattling on about us being destined to be together, it's weird."

"You don't want us to be together?"

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

Merlin laughs contentedly and drops his head back to Arthur's shoulder, drawing idly with his finger on his chest. Gold trails follow in his wake, giving light to the random squiggles and occasional heart. Arthur solemnly refuses to smile at how much of a _sap_ he is. Most powerful being on Earth and he's drawing _hearts_ with his magic. Woe for Camelot's enemies.

A comfortable moment passes in silence before Merlin speaks again, quietly with a smile playing on his lips. Arthur can see it even with his eyes closed - the subtle warmth of it, the way his cheeks colour lightly and he won't look too eager. It's a spell all its own, how bashful and reserved he can be at times. 

"We could always try it."

"Try what?"

"You know. If it works."

The corners of Arthur's lips quirk in amusement. "You just want to see if you can boss me around, don't you?"

" _Please_ , Arthur."

He gives a long suffering sigh, and opens his eyes to see blue eyes looking right back at him expectantly. They're impossible to refuse. "All right, if you insist. Just to see - and in the off chance it works, no ordering me to do something completely absurd. I am still King and can't be seen dancing about the courtyard."

Merlin laughs and shakes his head. "Kiss me, you idiot."

He does. Slightly chilled fingers brush against Merlin's jaw before curling around the back of his neck and pulling him down into a gentle kiss. The briefest of brushes, a playful nip at his upper lip and one swipe of their tongues together. But then he narrows his eyes and withdraws with a smirk, "I only did that because I wanted to, though. There, it doesn't work. Mystery solved."

Merlin frowns a fraction, "Well, I don't actually command the dragons in English, do I?"

"Sure, but I don't speak Draconian. How would I know what you're asking of me?"

He shrugs, "Aithusa knew to come when I called her before she left her egg. Perhaps it's simply in your blood, the way you know to breathe and pump blood."

Arthur goes silent as he mulls this over, considering. The idea is preposterous, but he's made an active effort to fully understand the extent of Merlin's abilities. This would be just one more thing, wouldn't it? "You honestly believe this'll work?"

"I don't know. But it'd be interesting to see."

Another beat of silence, hesitance heavy in Arthur's inhale before he nods his head. "All right. Try it."

A deep tone fills the room, Merlin's voice but entirely different as well. Arthur's heard it before as he calls the dragons to him, but it's never made him feel like - like the ocean tide pulled to the moon, like a plant turned to the sun, like Merlin is the center of everything and _is_ everything and all he can see is the gold in his eyes. He kisses him then, deeply, hungrily, needing it like oxygen, like water, like he'll die if he doesn't. He kisses him until they're breathless and panting, a new heat pooled between them and Arthur's eyes widen a mile.

"Was that-?"

"I told you to kiss me."

"Oh." And then precisely what that means hits him. " _Oh_."

Merlin pulls away from him, something akin to panic taking over in place of the former glee in his eyes. "Are you upset? I wouldn't - you know I wouldn't - take advantage or anything. I wouldn't, I _won't_ use it to hurt you or anything. I'm - you're my King, Arthur, you're my lord, my master, I wouldn't - you know I would never -"

"Shh, I know," he kisses his lips, his cheek, his forehead, "I know, Merlin. I trust you."

Merlin nods his head; he's been told a million times over but doubtless there is still lingering fear that Arthur'll hurt him. That someday, his father's mistrust of magic will rise up against him and he'll burn him on the pyre. Merlin is strong. Fear is stronger. 

"I trust you," Arthur says again for good measure, and presses their lips together firmly.

Merlin breathes shakily, closes his eyes to let it sink in. A flush creeps from his razor sharp cheekbones to the tip of his ears, and he bites his lip to refrain from smiling. "Can I - ?"

"You may," Arthur permits, nodding his head once, "But remember, no dancing."

Merlin laughs again before he speaks again in that old tongue, the words rooted in the earth and the sun and everything in between. Unfamiliar but absolute, and suddenly Arthur's breath grows harsh, cock filling to hardness and heat rising to his cheeks.

"What did you -?"

"Shh," Merlin pets his hair, "Lie still." This time, even in English, his body responds and Arthur does not fidget or move to take control. He can't. He must obey. Merlin smiles, "Bend your knees. Hold your hands above your head." 

Arthur does exactly as told until he's stretched out across the sheets, cheeks completely flushed and achingly hard and panting. Merlin simply watches, roving across his body with his eyes and _smiling_ , the smug bastard. 

"Mm, yes, you're being so good for me. My liege, my King. My Arthur." He licks across the sensitive skin of Arthur's neck then sinks his teeth into it, sucking to leave a bruise and repeating the process down his neck, along his collarbone, across his chest. Arthur is left gasping for air, desperate to arch to each touch and entirely incapable of doing so. Merlin eventually stops his torture to slide back up his body and look him in the eyes. "I'm going to blow you, but don't come, all right? Do not come."

The command steals his breath but Arthur near immediately feels a weight settle in his groin. He can't help but shiver with it, and he stutters. "Merlin."

"You're so good, Arthur, doing so good," and Merlin kisses him roughly to stifle the broken gasps, all tongues and teeth as Arthur fights for what little control he has in this situation. But he eventually pulls away and starts kissing down his trail again, teasing at the marks he's left and leaving a few more until he reaches where Arthur's cock is hard and leaking against his belly. Merlin hums in appreciation, tugging gently at Arthur's balls once, twice, then wraps his fingers tightly around the base of his prick. Lips sealed tightly just above his thumb, Merlin sucks up along the underside of Arthur's shaft, leaving a wet trail that cools quickly in the night air and makes Arthur moan quietly.

When he finally takes Arthur's head into his mouth, the heat is all at once too much and Merlin swallows him down until his lips meet his fingers. His tongue swirls around as much as it can, quickly slicking him up with saliva so he can hollow his cheeks and start _moving_. Up to the tip, licking around his head, and _all_ the way back down, slowly, agonizingly slow - then fast, quickly, sucking and pumping and Arthur buck, can't writhe, can't do anything but gasp and moan and "Merl - _ah_."

He pulls off with a _pop!_ but keeps working Arthur with his hand as he crawls back up to kiss him again, lips red and swollen and gorgeous. Arthur kisses him desperately and nearly _whines_ when Merlin pulls away again. "I want to fuck you, Arthur. Can I fuck you?"

"Yes," he breathes, chest heavy and heart racing and "Yes, Merlin, _gods_ yes."

"Spread your legs farther." Arthur moves his feet farther apart until it aches, until he can feel the stretch in his thighs and it feels good to listen, to follow Merlin's words. It feels right, he _has_ to, needs to be so good for him. Merlin grabs the oil they'd used not a candlemark ago and wastes no time in slicking up his fingers, sliding one into Arthur's hole and adding another after just a few thrusts. It burns and stretches but in a familiar and pleasant way. He wants so desperately to rock back against him, but he can't move at all from Merlin's earlier command and he starts whimpering with the strain. Merlin looks up to him with momentary panic before he realises and flushes, "Ah, sorry, you don't - . You can move, just don't - . Keep your hands above your head, but you can move."

Arthur exhales harshly in relief and immediately starts fucking himself on Merlin's fingers, hips rolling in time with Merlin's thrusts to get him deeper. He bites back cries of pleasure, his cock reaching near painfully hard which only makes him want to cry out louder. But he doesn't, he very rarely ever lets himself be vocal and it's through no edict of Merlin's. The King simply denies himself this and Merlin _hates_ it - but now he's the means to _stop_ it.

"Don't hold your voice back, Arthur. Make noise. Be as loud as you want, don't hold back."

Right away, Arthur cries out loudly, moaning and bucking and _screaming_ his pleasure, " _Merlin_ , I can't - I need -"

"What do you need?" Merlin chimes happily. He plunges another finger in, twists his wrist to rub _that spot_. Arthur cries again. "What do you need, Arthur? Tell me what you need."

"You. You, Merlin, need - need you. Inside me, please, _God_ , fuck. I _need_ you to fuck me."

Merlin might've had some clever retort or something highly inappropriate to say, but it visibly dies on his tongue when he looks up to see Arthur flushed and struggling against his own hands holding him in place. He brushes over the bundle of nerves once more before withdrawing his fingers, and Arthur whimpers with the loss of pressure only for it to be replaced by something much larger, much stronger and soso _so_ much better. Merlin slides in tantalizingly slow, inch by inch and Arthur moans with every one until he's buried to the hilt. Arthur's head falls back into the cushions, chin tilted back to bare his neck and hips rolling encouragingly. Merlin's breath catches and he gives a few shallow thrusts, just to hear Arthur moan, then curls over him to claim his mouth. 

"Gods, Arthur, you're so beautiful. So good, so - hot. _Fuck_ , you feel so good." He pulls out just to the tip then slams back in, Arthur arching with the sudden switch from ache to burn to want to need and _more_.

"Please, please Merlin, I need to - I need to touch you. I want to feel you, _please_."

"Yes. Yes, you can - yes."

Released by Merlin's word, and Arthur clings desperately, leaving nail marks on his back and pulling him closer, deeper, down onto him and further into him. He kisses him anywhere he can reach, leaves bright red marks all over his neck and collar and shoulders, crying louder with every thrust because he's _hitting that spot_ , pushing him closer to the edge but he can't fall over it because Merlin commanded it so, and Arthur obeys. He can feel it there, pooled at the base of his spine, waiting for release that will not come. It hurts just a little, but more than that, it intensifies everything else, every sensation and every touch feels like skin to flame. So sensitive, so broken and wretched and painfully aroused, body turned lewd and wanton to arch under Merlin's touch, Merlin's word, Merlin, Merlin, _Merlin_.

Arthur doesn't realise he's panting his name until Merlin says his name back, in that deep booming voice that maybe he can only hear in his head because it's so loud, so strong and powerful there's no way he isn't waking the entire kingdom. But it's there and he feels it just as much as he hears it.

' _I want you to come, Arthur. Come, come with me, c'mon, I want you to come with me_ ' and Arthur can only respond by moaning ' _yes, yes, together, anywhere, everywhere_ ' until they both fall apart in each other's arms.

(Later on, the next time they've to seek counsel with the Great Dragon, Kilgharrah gives them both a Look before making that deep, rumbling sound Arthur once thought to be mountains moving but Merlin explained to be _laughter_.

"You may find it interesting to know, young warlock, that when you speak in the Old Tongue, _all_ of our kin can hear it. It brings me great joy to see your abilities being used for the good of Albion."

Merlin flushes from head to toe and Arthur fights the urge to draw Excalibur, knowing full well it'd be useless against the creature.

"I hate him."

"Ageless dragon, Arthur, he can burn us both from existence in one go."

"Ageless _creep_. I hate him. I hate you."

"No you don't."

"... No, I don't.")


End file.
